The Ultimatum
by Trogdor19
Summary: The night Lorelai gave Luke the ultimatum, what if she didn't go to you-know-who's house? What if Luke came after her? Spoilers to episode 6x22 "Partings"


_Author's Note: This starts right after the big confrontation where Lorelai told Luke he has to marry her right now or never and he fumbled it._

 _Stay tuned until the end, friends. I have a big announcement today._

* * *

 **Lorelai POV**

I rush down the street, hoping nobody's looking at me, and feeling stripped bare. Bare and…pudgy and freckled and the kind of repulsive that leaves a man staring at you with wide eyes and a mouth that opens and closes and says everything, _anything_ except for yes.

I pull my sweater closed over my chest but it's too tiny to cover all the things I need to hide right now. I laid it all out there, right in the middle of the street and Luke just…let me go.

I let that man cut a hole in my _house_ to make room for him.

Right now, it feels like it's still gaping open and empty, and it might as well be, because all that house is ever going to hold is me. Forever. Until I'm old and gray and rattling around its empty rooms, forgetting what I left in one as I shuffle into the other.

I let myself in now, and I can barely stand the click of the closing door behind me. Catching myself on the wall, I lean into it.

If there are three things I'm sure of, it's that Luke would do anything for me, Rory is smart, and my parents are annoying. Now my parents are being nice to me, Luke doesn't want me, and Rory…well, Rory's still smart. But I don't know what Meatloaf was thinking when he sang that two out of three ain't bad, because it _is_ bad!

Terrible, actually. Two out of three feels like 2/3 of the gravity of the earth just slid sideways out from under my feet. I lean harder into the wall, ignoring Paul Anka's wet nose pressing against my knee. A tiny whimpering sound fills the foyer, and it takes me a second to register that it's my dog, not me, because it's exactly how I feel.

I've always been able to charm men. Even before Luke and I went on a single date, the whole town knew he was in love with me. I brushed them off, because what do you say to that? And I wasn't ready to deal with it. But I liked knowing. I liked hearing it. Except it turns out men don't actually want me. They just _want_ to want me. Once they get me, they couldn't care less.

 _Why would they buy the cow when they can get the milk for free, Lorelai?_

It was one of my mother's most cutting, disgusting things to say to me when I was a teenager. Just like most of the things she says that I hate the most, it's utterly correct. Because Christopher only wanted me until he knocked me up

Luke only wanted me until I told him to put up or shut up. He shut up, alright. My doorbell is silent. My foyer is silent. My bedroom is—

A sob garbles in my throat because I refuse to open my locked-together lips and let it out. I shove off the wall.

I never know what to do on nights like this. I want to do anything other than be here, feeling like this, but nothing is going to actually make me feel better. And, if I'm being honest with myself—and I was just super honest with Christopher's blind date therapist lady, so myself shouldn't be a stretch—I've felt this bad a lot lately. Last night was nearly as dark, and I went to Sukie's just so I wouldn't be alone.

Except being in a house with two people that have everything I want is much, much worse than alone.

And I thought last night was bad, but at least then I just _suspected_ me and Luke were over. I didn't know.

My whole life I kind of thought I would never find Mr. Right. And now I know.

Finding him and getting turned down flat is much, much worse than never finding him at all.

I'm sitting now, without really having made the decision. On the couch—no, nope, guess I only made it to the floor by the phone. Oh well, at least I got past the trash cans out front.

"I'd fit right in on the curb, with all the stuff nobody wants," I whisper to Paul Anka. He swipes tears off my cheek with an impossibly huge tongue. "Thanks, buddy. That might be the only tongue I get for a good long while, so it's probably best that it's disgusting." I reach past him and rip a page out of the phone book, blowing my nose and getting my hands all wet because the paper is not as absorbent as tissue, really at all.

I can't stay here. I can't, because everywhere I look there's something else I changed in the remodel so Luke would be happy here. All these years of dating guys and knowing I talked too fast and laughed too loud and made jokes nobody got…I could have gotten a ring out of one of those guys.

My mother told me exactly how to do it. _Don't slouch, Lorelai._

"Boobs out, Lorelai, is what she meant," I mutter to Paul Anka.

 _Don't make your little jokes, Lorelai. Laugh at their jokes, Lorelai. It doesn't matter if they're funny, that's just politeness._

"As if she was ever polite enough to laugh at _my_ jokes."

I knew how to hook a guy, but I didn't want to change. I liked being me a lot more than I ever liked those guys. And then there was Luke.

"And sledgehammers and paint chips and a hole in my _house_." I lurch to my feet. I have to get out of here. Maybe I'll sell it after all.

I grab the front door and yank it open, only to flinch back when I find a man standing there.

Luke's eyes are just as wide as they were in the street, and I _hate_ them. Whatever they see when they look at me, it's not what I see when I look at him.

Because I saw our future.

Tears blur my vision and I shove past him, arms crossed hard and trying hard not to think about the fact that his arms were at his sides when I opened the door.

Not reaching for the doorbell.

"Wait, Lorelai. I wanna say—"

"What, Luke?" I whirl on him. "You don't _want_ to say anything, or you'd have said it already. This is just about guilt, because you wants to believe you're doing the right thing, like somehow by refusing to marry me, you're being a better belated dad to April. Ha!" I throw up my hands. "It's not like foster care services won't let you adopt a kid unless you sign a pledge not to get married. It's not like the hospital won't release newborns to parents unless they pass a no-wedding-ring inspection!"

"That's not it! You know I'm not good with words like you are."

"Yeah, well you don't have to be superlatively literate to understand what you said to me." I stalk forward in my delicate heels because I want to see him fall back, his big scarred work boots giving way before them. "Yes. Three letters, one tiny little syllable. Pretty easy to understand. I asked you, Luke. I asked you to marry me. I didn't order you, I didn't blackmail you, I didn't force you. So all I want to hear from you now is, 'I'm sorry I lied, Lorelai.' Because you got dyslexic real fast when you figured out that 'yes' meant you were going to be stuck with me—" My voice breaks, betraying me mid-rant.

I turn away. Trumpets have never sounded the time for a retreat so clearly as the sound of my sobs, quivering in a throat that won't be able to muffle them for long.

He catches my elbows with big, warm hands.

"It doesn't mean I don't want to."

"That's exactly what it means, Luke! That's what it means! Wanting is what this is all about—"

He kisses me. My lips are wet with tears and he kisses me with nothing held back for way longer than I should probably let him before I remember myself and jerk away.

"You can't just kiss me and expect it—"

"I don't know how to do this, Lorelai," he says hoarsely. "Be a boss and a husband and a father to a girl in middle school and one in college, all at the same time. I'm already screwing things up. If you're not mad at me, Anna is, and Rory hasn't been coming in to the diner when she's in town and I don't know what I did there, and how can I promise you to be there for you forever when I can't even do this _week_ without making you cry?"

He glances back toward town, and mutters, "Except scratch the boss part off because I just left my diner full of a bunch of hippie musicians who've probably eaten me out of house and mortgage by now."

"Great. That's nice, Luke. You're worried about your business. And you're worried about April, but okay, I get that. I'm a parent, too, remember? I was a parent way before you were, and maybe you didn't get this from watching me do it, but you're not actually supposed to do it alone. You've been shoving me out the door ever since you found out about her and GOD." I clench my fists and glare up at the porch roof. "We're just standing here shouting at each other. We already did this part of the night, Luke, remember? No need for an instant replay. I asked you to elope, you turned me down flat, it's over. Easy as that."

"Lorelai, _please_." He looks ten years older, every line in his face deeper with the strain. "You're the only thing I've ever really wanted. Don't go. I'll elope, okay? Or, we can get married. You got a dress, didn't you? Put it on, we'll get Patty over here to do the ceremony, we'll get the license in the morning and she can lie on the paperwork about the dates. She'd love that. C'mon."

He's squeezing my arms now, almost too hard. I can't look at him, because it feels like I can't say yes to this. Like if I do, I'll be trapping him, even though all of this, _all_ of it was supposed to be his choice.

"How can Patty marry us?" I mumble, because I need to tell him no and I'm not sure if I can. "She's not a minister."

"She has a license. A certificate. A thingy, I don't know. Remember when she married those people in the park wearing all the costumes from the thing? You remember."

"The costumes from Cats, yeah." I blink, my body so limp I can barely hold it up. "Listen, Luke, it was a nice gesture, but you're off the hook." I don't want to be the ball and chain kind of bride. I want to be the kind where the guy can't stop grinning when she walks up the aisle, because he can't believe his luck.

"It's not you I don't like, it's _change_ ," he bursts out. I startle at his sudden volume. "I wish I'd have always been with you," he says more quietly. "When you first came into my diner. I wished you were coming home to me. I never said it, because it sounded stupid. Creepy. But I wished…sometimes, late at night, I'd kinda pretend that we were together. You ate breakfast with me, dinner. I made you coffee, we talked about our days. All those years, I was wishing you were mine. It's why I never got a real house. If I moved out of the diner, it was like I was admitting that I had a house and you weren't in it. The one time I tried to get an apartment, I couldn't even bring myself to stay there." He looked down at the porch floor. "I never wanted to make this into a big thing, to have a ceremony and everybody looking at us, listening to me stumble over my words and make an ass out of myself. You deserve a guy who can make grand speeches like you. I just wanted us to have already been together our whole lives."

I can't speak. I can only stare, because how can he be this sweet? How can I love him this much and things between us still be so broken?

He glances up, his eyes that almost startlingly clear blue. "Lorelai, please. You know I'm no good at change. But you've never waited for me before. You just drag me into it, chattering away and ignoring all my complaining until it's over and I'm happy just like you knew I'd be all along. Remember when you painted my diner?"

"You hated the colors." I clamp my lips closed against the smile that wants to emerge.

"Until I saw them on the walls, and they looked great. Remember when you talked me into getting a new stove and I said the old one was fine but the new one never lit the wall on fire and simmered so much better and heated up quicker so I never cracked the eggs into the skillet too early anymore?"

I'm smiling at him before I can help myself, but then I catch up with what he's saying and I have to laugh. "Come on, so you're telling me I should have dragged you to the altar? Not listened to you? Not been respectful or supportive, but just bulldozed you into what I wanted?"

"Hey, it's always worked before." He tucks his hands into his back pockets, looking abashed.

"Okay, well that's it. We're going, young man, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

The smile drops off his face. "Going where?"

I grab his arm and propel him off the porch and up the street at full late-to-work speed. "Miss Patty's."

"She'll make me wear tights!"

"Your brother-in-law got married in tights, and he loved it. Told everyone for three blocks around how much he loved it."

"Yeah, well he doesn't have any balls to get compressed by the tights," Luke mutters and I snort into giggles, shoving the tears away from my eyes and walking way too quickly to think.

It's Stars Hollow, and it's not large, so we're under the streetlight at Miss Patty's before he has a chance to do more complaining than to warn me that if his future reproductive capabilities are harmed by the tights, he's holding me personally responsible.

"Duly noted." I face him squarely. "How do I look? Bridal? If I'd known how this night was going to end up, I'd have worn my veil and garters to my mother's house for dinner."

"Your mother would never let you in the house wearing garters. She'd just…know."

"True. One time, when I was in high school, I came down wearing a thong. I didn't even make it to the third stair and she sent me back up to change and I had _jeans_ on over the top so I don't know how she—"

I break off mid-anecdote when Luke reaches up to brush my cheek with his thumb, so tenderly that I wonder if he's winding up to a romantic speech after all. "You've got a little something right there."

Ah, right. "Yellow pages."

"Come again?"

"Everybody knows you have to use the white pages if you run out of tissues and need to use the phone book. At least, everybody who has raised a teenaged girl." I grab his hand and tow him up to knock on Miss Patty's door. "The colored ink comes off the advertisements more easily than the black ink for the white pages."

"Uh…"

Miss Patty opens the door with a brilliant grin. "Oh good, you forgave him!"

"I'll see you a forgiveness and raise you a quicky marriage ceremony." I sweep past her before anybody involved has a chance to come to their senses. Especially me.

* * *

 _Later that night..._

Luke didn't have to wear tights. He did, however, have to wear a very Shakespearian velvet coat that Miss Patty said was "keeping up appearances" and the prop ring he slid onto my finger is plastic and inscribed all around with something that looks suspiciously like Elvish.

"One ring to bind them all…" I mutter.

"What?" Luke murmurs in his sleepy/happy voice (not to be confused with his sleepy "I have a bread delivery at 4am Lorelai please stop talking" voice, which is very different). His fingers trail down my bare spine, slow and sweet.

"Nothing. Just wondering if I might have to travel to Mordor to trade Miss Patty's musical props for my real wedding band."

"Nah." He scoots up just a little, reaching out to his nightstand. Since we expanded my bedroom, we have room for a nightstand on both sides of the bed. He comes up with a ring box and I roll onto my side so I can blink up at him.

"You've been keeping my wedding band in the nightstand? What about burglars? Shouldn't we put it, I don't know, in a safe or something?"

"It's Stars Hollow. Besides, I like having it close. When you're sleeping."

I stare at him. "Why? Just in case you want to practice marrying me in my sleep?" I snort a laugh. "That made no sense, Luke." Except it kind of did, and even while he sputters, I know exactly what he was thinking, and how romantic that really kind of is.

He pops open the box and takes out the ring. It's not plain gold, like I expected, but spangled with tiny diamonds all the way around, the same brilliant ice-white as the one in the engagement ring he bought me after I proposed. I have to clear my throat before I look at him.

"Sparkly. I like."

He shrugs. "Figured you weren't really a plain and boring kind of girl."

"You know me so well. Wanna do the honors, Mr. Lorelai?" I put out my hand with a flourish. But as soon as his fingers touch mine, my stomach quakes with nerves, not quite vanquished. "Luke?"

It comes out as barely a whisper, but he looks up immediately, the ring pausing just at the end of my finger.

"You can take it back, you know. We don't get the license until tomorrow, and Patty hasn't signed anything." I search his face, my anger gone, my hurt gone, and nothing left in me except the earth-solid fact that I can't live with myself if I force this man, this good, kind man, into a life he doesn't want.

He snorts. "Nice try, Lorelai, but you said the words, and I'm pretty sure Miss Patty wasn't just 'moving that camcorder out of the way'. You're on the record."

I don't say anything, because he expects me to make a joke, to rush us past this like I rush us past everything. When I don't, the silence expands a beat too long, and then he smiles, a little abashed.

"Wasn't that scary, in the end. Whole wedding thing."

I explode into laughter, snorting it a little out my nose. "Can I have that on tape?"

"No. I'm only wearing velvet on film once in my life. Now give me your damn hand so I can marry you and we can go to sleep."

"My hero," I drawl, but as he slides the diamond wedding band on my finger, neither one of us is joking.

This is real.

This is final.

And now, after everything, we are permanent.

* * *

THE END

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Big news, guys, huge. And if you're one of my hardcores that's been following my fanfic since 2012 you know exactly how big this is for me. Deep breath.

I HAVE A BOOK COMING OUT! Original fiction, this one is all me. It's the first book of a contemporary romance series that follows a rock band on the rise from bar rooms to the big time. It's releasing TODAY and it's called A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL. Straight up, this book would not exist without my fanfic readers.

You made me believe my writing was worth sharing, and because I believed, I was willing to work hard enough and hope long enough to become a published author. And believe me, it took a LOT. I can't ever thank you enough for the difference that made in my life. Still, I want to try, so here's my offer:

I'll give an ebook copy to any of my fanfic readers who want one, no matter how many of you that is. For FREE.

Listen, I adore the fanfiction community. You guys are so sweet and enthusiastic and supportive. Original fiction readers aren't always quite so engaged or um, quite so kind to authors. So I want to take all you guys with me on my original fiction journey. All you have to do is DM me or contact me through the Contact Me form on my website (michellehazenbooks dot com) or email me at michelle michellehazenbooks dot com.

Give me an email address and what file type of ebook you prefer (epub or Kindle/mobi). If you're not sure, let me know what kind of device you read ebooks on, and I can help you from there.

If you're one of my super fans who already knows about the book and bought your own copy so you can't take advantage of this freebie offer, EMAIL ME. I promise I will come up with something extra special just for you.

I love all you guys. You've done so much for me and I want to give back as much as I can.

* * *

Just to give you a peek at the book itself, here's a description of A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL.

 **If you can't get to the Big O, can you get to the happily ever after?**

Jera McKnight loves music, swoons for hot guys, but sucks at sex. Jacob Tate is her perfect storm: a pun-loving nude model with a heart as big as his record collection.

When a newspaper-delivery accident lands him in her living room, he's almost tempting enough to make her forget she's never been able to please a man—in bed or out of it. Sure, he laughs at her obscure jokes, and he'll even accept a PG-rating if it means he gets time with her, but he's also hiding something. And it has everything to do with the off-limits room in his apartment.

Jera pours all her confusion and longing into her drum kit, which pays off when her band lands the record deal of their dreams. Except just like Jacob, it might be too good to come without a catch.

She doesn't know if her music is good enough to attract a better contract, or if she's enough to tempt a man like Jacob to give up his secrets—even if they could fix her problems between the sheets. But if this rocker girl is too afraid to bet on herself, she might just end up playing to an empty house.

 _Fans of Alice Clayton's Wallbanger or Kylie Scott will love this addictive new series because of its quick sense of humor and adorable found family. Grab a copy if you want to instantly escape into the world of Jera and Jacob's romance._


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